If You Could See Me
by Lazarus76
Summary: Wanting someone but not admitting to your feelings can lead to misunderstandings...and surprises. One shot.


**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.**

Arthur looked across the office, and smiled. Eames was sitting in his desk chair, tilting back, gazing at the ceiling. The Point Man felt an irresistible urge to walk across, and casually flip the chair up.

Except, he didn't. He couldn't. It would be so unlike him, so unlike what the Forger expected. Everybody in the room expected him to be uptight, boring Arthur. Obsessed with data and meticulous detail. Unable to relax, and let go.

Unable to be liked by a man like Eames.

As if on cue, the Forger turned, and met Arthur's eyes. He frowned slightly. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Arthur almost snapped, embarrassment suddenly overcoming him at being spotted. "Just...stop leaning back on your chair, will you? Its annoying."

Eames shrugged. "You're the only person it annoys. Maybe I do it deliberately."

Arthur scowled, suddenly realising he was completely fulfilling the image Eames had of him. Uptight, prissy, humourless, and ...boring. He swallowed, and tried to focus on his laptop.

* * *

Arthur peered at his data spreadsheet. Suddenly, he heard whistling. Turning, he glared at the Forger.

"Will you stop that?"

"Of course," the other man retorted. He settled down in a seat, and began to smile. "Thought of going out, lately?"

Arthur turned. "What?"

"Just wondered...lads' night out. You, me..."

The Point Man shook his head. "I don't think so, somehow."

Eames swallowed. "Only offered."

As the older man got up and left, Arthur wanted to slam his own head against the metal filing cabinet. Yet again, he'd proved himself to be...boring. He rubbed his face, and sank down into his office chair, watching the Forger's retreating figure.

* * *

Arthur blinked at the bag of cookies that had materialised on his desk. He looked at the Forger. "What did you...?" he murmured. Eames smiled.

"Oh, come on, Arthur. Its only a cookie. You deserve one, you work hard, and you're looking a bit thin lately."

Arthur scowled. "Nice of you to notice my body. Remind me next time I turn into an object."

He stopped. He'd sounded so sharp, so harsh. He could also see, with a stab of guilt, Eames' face beginning to colour with embarrassment. Now he sounded more than uptight. He sounded cold, and almost hateful.

Eames shrugged. "Well, I tried." Before Arthur could speak, the bag of cookies had been picked up, and were disappearing along with the Forger.

Arthur's mouth began to drop. "Ea-" he tried, the words dying in his throat. Blinking back tears, he heard a door slam.

* * *

Arthur sat in his dimly light lounge, brooding. The soft music playing didn't help - Billie Holliday's voice served only to remind him of his own shortcomings. He felt cold, miserable, and tired.

And unloved.

He looked at the Scotch in his hand. It was his own fault. He was so uptight, so precise. He intimidated people, and scared people, and bored people. Eames...Eames was funny, charismatic, and carefree. Arthur was everything he wasn't, and he despised him for it.

He sighed, and then heard a knock at the door. Getting up, he slouched over to open it.

His mouth fell open. "Eames!"

"Hello," the Forger said, looking slightly nervous. "I thought I'd bring a peace offering. Cobb confirmed they're your favourites."

Arthur blinked. Eames was holding a bag of custard filled, chocolate glazed doughnuts. "I..."

"Well, you don't have to eat them. Throw them in the bin, if you like." Eames shrugged. "But you are looking thin...and you're so tense, well, I thought you might need some..."

He paused. Arthur looked at him.

"Nurturing," Eames finished, looking embarrassed. "Someone who actually looks after you. Because who does?"

Arthur looked at the floor, then at the Forger. "I thought you though I was...uptight. Cold." He swallowed. Eames shook his head.

"No," he said, gently. "Just lonely, and unhappy..." before Arthur could answer, he pulled him into his arms, kissing him deeply. The Point Man reciprocated, finally giving into his feelings.

"Now," Eames said, letting go of him, slightly. "Shall we eat those? Before they're completely squashed?"

Arthur blinked, and realised Eames meant the doughnuts. "Oh, yes," he said, swallowing.

Eames grinned, and winked. "Perfect. They'll give us some energy." Without another word, Arthur grabbed his shirt front, and pulled him into the apartment.

**All reviews appreciated. Thank you!**


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